Ultimate XMen: BLOOD FEUD
by Dino Pollard
Summary: Takes place after DEADLY NEW WORLD. Following their victory over Magneto, the XMen celebrate at a local nightclub. But what happens when a figure from Wolverine's past comes calling?
1. Part I: Under Siege

* * *

Issue #7 

"BLOOD FEUD"  
Part I: Under Siege 

_by Dino Pollard_

* * *

  
****

Pulse-pounding music blasted through the stereos. Two young men sat at a table, each one holding a beer. One was Native American, with short, spiked hair. A tattoo of a red bird was seen on his left arm, just below the sleeve of his t-shirt. His companion was about his age, with brown hair which was slightly curled in the front, and a growing goatee. He wore a pair of red sunglasses to cover his eyes. 

"Gotta love the New York club scene," John Proudstar remarked. Scott Summers grinned. 

"I'm surprised Wolverine was able to get us in here," Scott noted. 

"How many people does that guy know anyway?" John asked. Scott wasn't really paying attention to him, though. He seemed fixated on an attractive blonde on the other side of the room. 

"Yo, you awake?" John asked, elbowing him. 

"Hmm? Sorry," Scott replied. 

"Damn, look at them tearing up the dance floor," John said, watching their teammates, Jean Grey and Ororo Munroe. "Shit, makes me wonder why Ali didn't want to come along." 

"Mmmm..." Scott muttered, still watching the blonde. 

"Go up and talk to her, dude." 

"You crazy?" he asked. "I wouldn't last two seconds with a babe like that." 

"Jeeeeesus..." John muttered. He stood and yanked Scott up by the collar. 

"H-hey!" 

"Just get your ass over there!" he stated, giving Scott a light shove. But with John's superhuman strength, a light shove was enough to send the young man stumbling across the room, nearly running over the girl he was admiring. 

"Uhh... hey," Scott stated, inches away from her. "Sorry about that... I just... just lost my balance." 

"It's okay," the girl replied with a smile. 

"So... umm... what's your name?" 

"Maggie," she said, that smile still present. "And you are...?" 

"Oh... I'm... uh... uh..." 

"_Scott._" 

"Scott! I'm Scott." 

"Nice to meet you, Scott," Maggie said. "Y'know, I saw you sitting over there." 

"You did?" 

"Yeah, I really like your sunglasses," she continued. "Where'd you get them?" 

"Oh... they were a... gift," Scott replied. 

"Can I see them?" 

"NO!" Scott exclaimed, backing away as she reached for them. "Err... I mean... my eyes are really... sensitive to the... to the light." 

"Oh... so... where do you go to school?" 

"Xavier's. What about you?" 

"I just transferred to Empire State. It's a nice school, but I dunno... I'm new there and I don't know a lot of people." 

"Yeah, I know the feeling," Scott replied. "I just started at Xavier's." 

"I've never heard of Xavier's. Is it a small school?" 

"...you might say that." 

* * *

"I'm beat..." Ororo muttered, falling into the seat at John's table. 

"Not surprised, seeing as how you were out there on the dance floor," John noted. 

"Well, you know what they say, John," Jean stated. "If you've got it, flaunt it." 

"Hey, who's that girl Scott's with?" Ororo asked. 

"Ahh... he's had his eye on her ever since she walked in," John replied. "I told him to go for it, an' look at him now. I noticed that Red over here was watching 'em, though." 

"What?" Ororo asked, looking at Jean. "You and Scott...?" 

"Please," Jean replied. "I'm definitely not the type of girl to settle. And if I did, it wouldn't be with someone like Scott. I'm having too much fun enjoying single life as it is." 

"Then why were you smiling when you were looking at him?" John asked. 

"Well..." Jean began. "She asked him what his name was, and he forgot. So, I just psychically reminded him." 

"You were spying," Ororo said with a knowing grin. "So, where's Miss Perfect tonight?" 

"I guess we cramp her style," Jean replied. "She's back at the campus with Hank and Ali." 

"I'm still trying to figure out where Wolverine is," John said. 

* * *

"Hold it right there." 

"Outta my way, bub," Logan ordered. "I got business with yer boss." 

"Then you'd better start by making an appointment. Or you're gonna be in a world of hurt." 

"Ya wanna try me?" Logan asked, staring the man directly in the face, his lips curling into a snarl. 

"Yeah." 

The bouncer poked Logan in the chest. 

"What're you waiting for?" 

"That," Logan replied. He grabbed the bouncer's arm and flipped him over, then he fractured the arm. 

*CRACK* 

The bouncer didn't scream. Logan put his fist right below the bouncer's chin. 

*SNIKT* 

"You gonna let me in?" Logan asked, one outside claw skinning the bouncer's neck. 

*SNIKT* 

The other outside claw extended by the bouncer's neck. 

"You gonna let me in, or should we ask Claw #3 what he thinks?" 

Another bouncer entered the corridor from a doorway at the end of the hall. 

"The boss can see you now." 

"Thanks," Logan stated, getting off the bouncer. 

*SNAKT* 

* * *

"Logan!" the man behind the desk exclaimed, standing. He extended his hand. "It's good to see you again!" 

"Put that hand away, Wyngarde," Logan stated. "This ain't a social call. And y'can drop the illusion." 

"Very well," Wyngarde said. The world seemed to warp, and where there was once a young, attractive man now sat a middle-aged man with long, gray hair and a thin, crooked mustache. 

"How's th' nightclub business goin', Mastermind?" Logan asked. 

"I'm straight and narrow now, Logan," Mastermind replied. "Why can't you SHIELD guys just leave me alone?" 

"I'm not here on SHIELD business, bub," Logan stated. 

"Then why...?" 

"This is... _personal_..." Logan replied, his voice going lower when he said the final word. The effect wasn't lost on Wyngarde. 

"You can't be serious..." Mastermind began. Logan nodded. "Are you sure?" 

"I got a scent up in Anchorage.* An' somethin' tells me that he followed me back here." 

(* Back in issue #4 -- Dino) 

"What do want from me, then?" Mastermind asked. 

"What I always want from ya, Mastermind," Logan replied. "Intel." 

"I think you'd better have a drink, friend," was Mastermind's only reply. 

* * *

*KLAK* 

The multi-colored billiard balls raced across the green velvet, some of them landing in the pockets. 

"Nicely played, Hank," Charles stated, sitting off to the side in his wheelchair with a pool cue in his hand. "If I knew you were this good at pool, I wouldn't have accepted your challenge." 

"I reiterate..." Hank noted before taking another shot. "Your funeral." 

*KLAK* 

"Where did you learn how to play so well?" Charles asked. 

"Back when I was growing up..." Hank began. "...I was a very sheltered child. My afternoons and weekends consisted of Sega Genesis and Star Trek reruns. One day, I was in a department store with my father, and he was drooling over this pool table there. He bought it, and taught me how to play. Sometimes, I would go straight for it once I got home." 

*KLAK* 

"And as I practiced, I got better..." 

*KLAK* 

"And better..." 

*KLAK* 

"Eight ball, corner-pocket." 

*KLAK* 

"And better." 

Hank blew the tip of the pool stick, as if it were a gun. 

"Is that why you decided not to celebrate with the others?" Charles asked. 

"Well... partly," Hank replied. "I'm not much of a social butterfly to begin with, so going out to a dance club doesn't seem like the best idea." 

"I think Ali may share your sentiments," Charles stated. "Except it seems she's more worried about being recognized in public after the outburst at Allstate." 

"What about Monet?" Hank asked. 

"Monet is a totally different situation," Charles replied. "It's not that she's insecure like you, or ashamed of her genetic origin like Ali. It's just that she couldn't be bothered." 

"I see..." Hank noted, picking up a ball from one of the pockets and looking at it. "How would you feel about another game, Professor?" 

"Feel free to call me Charles when we're just relaxing." 

"Okay Charles..." Hank said, holding up a couple bills. "What do you say we make it interesting?" 

Charles seemed to be considering the suggestion. Then, a slight smile crept on his face. 

"Rack them up, Hank. I'll be back in a moment." 

* * *

"After you left Weapon X to join up with SHIELD, rumor has it that he was sent on a top-secret mission," Mastermind began. "It was an assassination - specifically Saddam. Obviously, he failed." 

"Doesn't sound like 'im t' screw up a job," Logan stated. "What happened to him?" 

"No one really knows for sure," Mastermind replied. "Officially, he died years ago, once he joined up with the Project - same as you. But now, it was assumed that he became a POW." 

"An' now he's back..." Logan muttered. 

"Why is he after you, though?" 

"We never did get along," Logan stated. "It really came t' a head during 'Nam." 

"And...?" 

"Don't play dumb." 

"Well... regardless, you're not in a very good situation," Mastermind stated. "If he is after you, you've gotta be ready." 

"I just stood up to a power-hungry bigot," Logan noted. "I'll be able t' handle him." 

"I know, I saw you on the news. But, he's different. He's an expert in guerilla warfare." 

"So am I." 

"Don't be overconfident, Logan. You were never a match for hi--" 

"Word t' th' wise, Mastermind - watch yer goddamn mouth." 

Mastermind swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 

Logan placed the empty glass on the desk. Then, he turned towards the door. 

"Thanks f'r th' drink." 

* * *

The young, blonde woman on the cover of the magazine looked strangely familiar. But, Alison Blaire knew that it was a lifetime ago. Her fame, music, everything she ever wanted, was gone. All in the blink of an eye. 

Now, the pop-star on the cover of Rolling Stone was gone. She might as well be in the obituaries. To Ali, it was like looking at her reflection in a shattered mirror. Except it was her image which was shattered, not the photographs. 

Her hands glowed brightly, the TV in the background fueling her mutant ability to convert sound into light. The bright light began to grow wider, until it covered the entire magazine. Then, in an instant, the magazine was vaporized. 

"All because of this..." she muttered. "Some 'gift.'" 

*KNOCK* 

"Ali...? Can I come in?" 

She looked up to see Charles wheeling into the room. 

"What? Did Magneto break out of his coma or something?" 

"No..." Charles replied. "I just thought I'd see how you're doing." 

"You're a mind reader," she muttered, turning her back to him. "You tell me." 

"I don't use my powers that way," he said. He wheeled closer to the bed, and took note of the ashes on the ground. "Hank and I are playing a game of pool downstairs. I thought you might want to join us." 

"I'm not a good pool player..." 

"That's okay. If you don't feel comfortable playing, you could simply watch." 

"I'm not up for games right now." 

"Is everything all right, Ali?" 

There was a brief moment of silence. Charles almost turned towards the door before Ali spoke up. 

"No, everything is _not_ all right. I lost everything I had, everything I ever dreamed of because of these... powers. I'm not special or gifted, I'm a damn freak! I don't care about this damn government project!! I don't want any of their money or benefits!! You know what I do want, though?!" 

"What...?" Charles asked, although he already knew the answer. 

"I WANT MY FUCKING LIFE BACK!!!" 

She grabbed the leather bomber jacket which was part of the X-Men's uniforms and went for the door. 

"Where are you going?" Charles asked. 

"I need to clear my head!" she exclaimed. 

Charles sat in silence for a brief period then wheeled himself out of the room. 

* * *

Ali began to walk around the campus, shivering slightly from the chilly weather. She could feel it even through her leather jacket. The wind stung her face where tears lay. 

When Alison Blaire was a young girl and she was upset or sad about anything, she could always go to her mother. Her mother would give her a reassuring hug and convince her that everything would be fine. When Ali was young, that reassurance was all she needed to help her forget her problems. Now, she wishes she was still that innocent and naive. She wishes that she could still run to her mother, and all her problems would be gone. 

But, she can't. Her mother is living in another state right now, probably worried sick about where she is. She wants to see her parents again so badly, but she knows that the M-Squad is probably watching them already. She can't put their lives in danger. 

She sat down on a bench in the garden and buried her face in her hands. Why was this happening to her? Why did life have to be so unfair? Why is it that God gave her everything she ever wanted - only to take it away? 

"I 'member you..." 

Her head snapped up, and she stood up from the bench, slowly stepping back. 

"Yer th' frail from Alaska." 

"W-Wolverine...?" Ali asked, stepping back a bit more. 

"Nope." 

A strange man stepped forth from behind a tree. He was big, with long, blonde hair resting on his shoulder. His body was covered with tattoos, and he was dressed in a sleeveless t-shirt and combat pants. Ali noticed that at the tips of his fingers were claws. 

"Way I recall it, I saved yer life up there," he stated. * 

(* Again, back in issue #4 -- Dino) 

"You..." Ali muttered, remembering the thing that grabbed the M-Squad agent who almost killed her. 

"Yeah..." he said. "ME!" 

He suddenly leapt towards her, claws bared. Ali moved as fast as possible, narrowly dodging the large man. 

His eyes flared up with rage at her, his snarl revealing fangs as well. Whoever this was, he was more beast than man. 

"C'mere, girly!" he exclaimed, leaping at her again. This time, Ali couldn't get away as he grabbed her hair and pulled her close. 

"Y'feel that?" he asked, his hot breath on her neck. "Th' little peachfuzz standin' up on th' back o' yer neck? Y'know what that is?" 

Even if she did have a reply, she wouldn't have been able to reveal it. Her entire body was paralyzed with terror, especially when he ran a finger along the peachfuzz hairs on her neck. 

"Fear," he hissed. "Ya reek of it." 

He tossed her aside like a rag doll, causing her to hit her head on the bench she was previously sitting on. He walked back over to her and grabbed her hair again, lifting her head up to his mouth. 

"I'm only gonna ask this once - where's Logan?" 

"And I'm only going to say this once..." 

The man looked up to see a young, black woman standing there, her fists clenched, and a look of determination on her face. Her name was Monet St. Croix, and he could tell just from looking at her that she had spunk. 

"Get away from her." 

The stranger grinned, dropping Ali back onto the bench. He slowly approached Monet, getting into a battle stance. 

"This is gonna be more interesting than I thought," he muttered. "Awright frail... let's dance!" 

M flew towards him, putting all her strength into a ram. The stranger was able to resist her momentum, and he slashed at her midriff. He brought his other set of claws down across the previous slashes. She bit her lip as his claws broke her skin. 

_Ignore the pain, Monet..._ she thought to herself. 

She attempted to deliver a blow to his chest with her left arm, then her right. He caught both of them under his arms and delivered a headbutt. In the brief instant it took for her to regain her composure, he executed a powerful roundhouse kick, throwing her against the wall. 

M slowly got to her feet and wiped her lip. She looked down at her hand and saw blood. The wounds on her midsection made her feel like her gut was on fire. She may have a high resistance to injury, but she certainly wasn't invulnerable. Now, she found herself wishing that she was wearing her uniform. The tough leather would offer at least some protection. Whoever this mutant was, his strength equaled, possibly surpassed, her own. And he knew how to fight. He was able to counter every single one of her blows. 

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed help. 

* * *

*KLAK* 

"A lucky shot..." Hank muttered. 

"I helped pay my way through college playing pool," Charles stated with a grin. "I think that's a lot of 'lucky shots.'" 

"I'm surprised that you can play at all in a wheelchair..." Hank noted. 

"Now that _is_ luck," Charles said. Hank chuckled. 

*KLAK* 

"Well... if I keep up like this, Hank, I may have some of your money by this night's e--" 

_"Professor!"_

"What's wrong?" Hank asked. 

"It's Monet..." Charles replied. "Contacting me telepathically." 

_"There's some sort of prowler here,"_ M stated in his mind. "I'm pretty sure he's a mutant - big one, too. He attacked Dazzler and took her down fairly easily." 

_"How is she?" _

_"As far as I can tell, she's fine. But this is one, tough customer. He's been able to counter every one of my blows, and he has strength to match them, not to mention claws." _

"Hank, head out to the garden immediately!" Charles ordered. "Monet and Ali are trying to fight off an intruder, and they need your help." 

"I'm on it," Hank replied, running out of the room, pool stick still in hand. 

_"Hank is on his way, M. I'm going to see if I can contact the others, so just see if you can hold out for a little longer..."_

Xavier maneuvered his chair out of the room, heading towards the elevator... and down to the sub-levels. 

* * *

Logan put a beer down on the table, then sat down beside Jean. 

"Where've you been?" John asked. 

"Checkin' up on an old buddy," Logan replied. 

"How's he doing?" Jean asked. 

"He's a sleazy prick with some self-esteem issues." 

"Sorry to hear that..." Jean noted. 

"No, that's how he always was," Logan stated. 

"...Oh." 

"Where's bright eyes?" Logan asked. 

"Trying to hit on some girl he just met," Ororo replied. Logan turned to look where she was pointing and saw Scott sitting with a young, blonde girl. 

"She's not half bad..." he noted before turning back to the others. "How're ya enjoyin' th' club, though?" 

"This place rocks!" John exclaimed. "Nice music, nice brew, nice women." 

"Pig," Jean muttered. 

"Bitch," John replied. 

John took a sip of his beer and placed it back down on the table when he heard a new song come on. 

"This song kicks," he stated. He looked over at Ororo. "C'mon, O. Let's show these punks how it's done." 

"Well... I dunno..." Ororo replied. 

"C'mon!" John exclaimed, grabbing her arm. "Don't be a prude!" 

"Go on," Jean stated with a smile. "Even pigs deserve a little fun." 

"Bitch!" John shouted as he and Ororo walked out to the dance floor. She chuckled a bit and looked at Logan. 

"So what's your story?" she asked. "I mean, why is it that you're hanging out with a bunch of teenagers?" 

"'Cause I had some business t' attend to, an' I thought ya might like a chance t' celebrate our victory." 

"No, I mean with the X-Men." 

"Ya already know I'm th' SHIELD liason," Logan stated. "That's why I'm here." 

"There's gotta be more to you than just government agent," Jean said. "How did you get into SHIELD? And why were you chosen as the X-Men's liason?" 

"I'm a mutant an' a high-rankin' officer - that's how I was chosen," Logan replied. 

"And how you got into SHIELD...?" 

"Long story." 

"I've got time." 

"None o' yer business." 

"I could just read your mind, then." 

Logan placed his beer down on the table and looked at her. 

"Watch yerself, red. Yer in deep waters." 

"What can I say?" Jean asked. "I'm a gutsy kinda gal." 

"Ya play with fire, yer gonna get burned." 

"I may be risky, but I'm also careful." 

"Know wha--" 

"Yes." 

"Yes what?" Logan asked. 

"Yes I know what an oxymoron is," Jean replied. 

"Readin' my thoughts?" 

"You got a problem with that?" 

Logan stared at her for a few moments before he chuckled slightly. 

"Yer risky," he said. "I like that." 

"You're mysterious," she replied. "I like tha-" 

_"X-MEN!!! WE HAVE A SITUATION ON CAMPUS!!! AN INTRUDER IS CURRENTLY ENGAGING M AND BEAST IN COMBAT, AND DAZZLER HAS BEEN IMMOBILIZED!! THEY NEED HELP - FAST!!"_

"How did someone get past the security?" Jean asked, looking at her teammate. 

Logan gave no reply, just stood from the table and ran out of the club. Jean turned to see Scott, John, and Ororo walking towards her. She got up as well and followed Logan. 

"Wait up!" she cried. 

* * *

"I don't know who you are or what you're doing here," Beast stated, delivering a swift kick. "But I do know that you're beating up on my teammates. So, I suppose I don't really need to know anything else!" 

"Ya talk too much, butterball!" the mutant exclaimed diving towards Hank, hands first. His claws drove themselves into Hank's gut, and his weight forced the young X-Man down to the ground. The stranger placed one claw by Hank's throat and lightly ran it across. 

"Now... are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know, or do I hafta..." 

He stopped and looked up. 

*sniff* 

*sniff* 

A grin spread across his face and he stood up. 

*SNIKT* 

"Well, well, well..." the man sneered. "Look who finally decided t' join the party." 

"Long time no see..." Logan said, his claws extended. "...Sabretooth." 


	2. Part II: Bloodlust

* * *

Issue #8 

"BLOOD FEUD"  
Part II: Bloodlust 

_by Dino Pollard_

* * *

  
**** Foot-long, adamantium claws slice easily through the larger mutant's hide.  
  
First blood is drawn by Wolverine.  
  
Sabretooth ignores the gaping wound in his side, and instead lashes out with his own claws. Unlike Wolverine, Sabretooth possesses 10 claws, except they're smaller and at his fingertips - but no less deadly.  
  
Looking up, Hank McCoy can't help but notice that the gaping wound in Sabretooth's side doesn't seem as gaping as he first thought. in fact, he notices that it grows smaller.  
  
Wolverine takes no notice of this, rather counters Sabretooth's strike with a well-placed kick to the larger mutant's neck. Logan swipes downward, his claws slicing into Sabretooth's chest.  
  
"This is f'r 'Nam..." he muttered, impaling Sabretooth on his claws and lifting him. He reached back with his free hand, prepared to deliver the killing blow.  
  
"WOLVERINE!!!"  
  
His head turned to see his fellow team-mates - Jean Grey (Psyche), Ororo Munroe (Storm), John Proudstar (Thunderbird), and Scott Summers (Cyclops) coming onto the scene. He also took notice of the shock in their eyes at seeing their team-mates Hank McCoy (Beast), Monet St. Croix (M), and Alison Blaire (Dazzler) lying on the ground, injured. Another part of the shock came from seeing their leader prepared to kill an intruder in what seemed like cold blood.  
  
"Get back!!" Logan ordered. "This shithead's mine!!"  
  
Before Logan could deliver the blow, Sabretooth's massive hand shot out and wrapped around his throat.  
  
"Y'know what yer problem is, Logan ol' buddy?" Sabretooth asked, using Logan for leverage as he flipped himself over his adversary and pulled the claws from his gut. "You've become too fuckin' soft!!"  
  
*SCHLUCK*  
  
The X-Men watched in horror as Sabretooth tore into Logan's throat, leaving a massive wound with blood seeping from it. Their thoughts are collective on this subject, but only John Proudstar gives voice to them.  
  
"....Jesus H. Christ....."  
  
Sabretooth dropped Wolverine and looked at the rest of the X-Men. He lifted a claw to his mouth and licked the blood off it.  
  
"Hmm... tastes a bit sweeter this time' round."  
  
He grinned and took a step towards them. They flinched. He could smell the fear emanating from them. And it made him smile.  
  
"Later kiddies," he said, darting past them suddenly.  
  
"What are we waiting for?" John asked. "Let's get him!"  
  
"I don't see _you_ moving too fast, Mr. All-American..." Ororo muttered.  
  
"Let him go," Jean stated, running over to Wolverine. "Logan's our priority right now!"  
  
"I'm alright..."Logan muttered, slowly getting to his feet. "Just... gimme a mo 

ment to... collect my bearings..."  
  
He reached his hand up to his throat, which was almost fully healed.  
  
"Holy shit..." John muttered. "Dude... that's like... dude..."  
  
"No big..." Logan muttered. "Pretty soon, all that'll be left is a scar. We gotta worry more about th' others."  
  


* * *

  
  
Later.  
  
"I only wished I was able to get there sooner..." Charles muttered, staring out the window. "I could have tried to stop him... if I just didn't have this blasted chair..."  
  
"No one died, Chuck," Logan stated, taking a drag on a cigar. "Don't blame yerself."  
  
"I don't..." Charles said, turning his chair to face Logan. "I blame you."  
  
"Come again?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow. "An' this time, keep in mind that I wouldn't have any problem punchin' a cripple."  
  
Charles' expression didn't change.  
  
"Sabretooth was looking for you. How did he know where to find you? How was he able to bypass security?"  
  
Logan sat down and put out the cigar.  
  
"When we were in Alaska, I got a faint hint of his scent," he began. "He must've followed me back here."  
  
"And security...?"  
  
"Sabretooth was trained by the same people who trained me."  
  
"He's a SHIELD agent?!"  
  
"No..." Logan stated. "Before SHIELD."  
  
"I want details," Charles said, leaning forward on his desk. "And I don't want to probe your mind for them."  
  
"You know as well as I do that's easier said than done," Logan stated. "My skull's made of adamantium. Acts as a buffer, reverses th' frequency. That, an' I've been trained to resist psychics."  
  
"You're right," Charles said. "But, I _can _do it. It'll cause both of us a lot of pain and discomfort, though, and we'll need to use Tylenol for about a week."  
  
"I get yer point," Logan began. "My past with Sabretooth dates back t' the time I spent in Weapon X."  
  
"Weapon X?"  
  
"It's a hush-hush organization, with th' express purpose of creating a super soldier. I dunno about all the details, but I think they're part of the Canadian government. At least that's where they were based, last I heard. They recruited two soldiers straight outta 'Nam. Me an' a guy by the name of Victor Creed."  
  
"Sabretooth."  
  
Logan nodded.  
  
"We were stationed together in th' war. Didn't always get along. We found one o' th' Viet Cong hidin' out in a village. Didn't stop him from slaughtering the rest of the village, though - starting with the kids. I tried t' stop him, an' he damn near killed me. Healing factor wasn't as strong back then. After the war ended, some of us went out t' celebrate. I had one too many drinks, an' when I left the bar, I was ambushed by five men dressed in black. They took me to the Weapon X complex, where I found that they also held Creed. They put us through a lot of trainin' t' determine th' extent of our abilities. They also took methods to increase those abilities, which raised my healing factor's ability. After that, they selected me for a new procedure - adamantium bonding. Creed wasn't selected. The process worked. Bonded every bone in my body with adamantium - including my claws. I broke free, though. Cut myself loose from the Program, an' escaped.  
  
I wandered around for a few months until I was found by Nick Fury. He gave me an offer - the chance t' work for SHIELD. I figured, what the hell. I ran some pretty tough capers - includin' the Gulf War. Sabretooth, though, stayed with Weapon X. I heard he went AWOL a few months back, though. Somehow, he ended up in Alaska, an' he picked up my scent. Obviously, he tracked me back here."  
  
"Is Sabretooth still involved with Weapon X?" Charles asked.  
  
"No clue," Logan replied. "All I do know is that he's in New York, now. An' he's lookin' t' finish what he started in 'Nam."  
  
"I would offer you assistance in this, but, considering the circumstances, I won't," Charles stated. "I don't like the idea that SHIELD feels I need a baby-sitter. And to top it all off, this is a personal matter of yours. I don't want my students endangered because of SHIELD's baby-sitter. So go. Settle this, and come back."  
  
Logan stood up and turned towards the door.  
  
"Oh and Logan, one more thing..." Charles began. "If something like this does happen again, I promise you that I _will _brave the buffer that your adamantium skull poses to my abilities - and you'll need a lot more than Tylenol to help you recover from it."  
  


* * *

  
  
"Logan!"  
  
As Wolverine walked away from Xavier's office, he noticed Jean waiting for him.  
  
"What's going on?" she asked. "Who was that guy?"  
  
"An' old friend," Logan replied.  
  
"You're going after him, aren't you?"  
  
"What tipped ya off?"  
  
"He tore out your throat last time!"  
  
"It grew back."  
  
"You can't go alone," Jean protested. "You'll need some help."  
  
"Don't even think about it," Logan warned. "This ain't yer fight."  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"T' get some more information."  
  


* * *

  
  
Roswell.  
  
The birthplace of the Alien Autopsy and countless conspiracy theories concerning the government and aliens. One of which is the mysterious base known as Area 51. What no one realizes, however, is that Area 51 has nothing to do with any of those rumors. It's true motives are far more sinister.  
  
A middle-aged man built like a tank stood in a booth overlooking an area. In this area, several young mutants were engaged in battle.  
  
"It was touch and go for awhile there," he said to his companion - a bald man with a thin moustache. "But it seems like we're finally back on track."  
  
"Good," the bald man replied. "That snivelling daddy's boy actually had a good idea. But, as usual, he executed it badly."  
  
"What about Fury?"  
  
"Fury won't be too much of a problem anymore - trust me on that."  
  
The larger man grinned and continued to watch his charges.  
  


* * *

  
  
Logan walked down the corridor leading to Mastermind's office. One of the guards stepped forward.  
  
"Mr. Wyngarde isn't seeing any visitors right now," he stated. "No matter who they are. So you'll just have to come back another ti--"  
  
Logan gave no reply, just punched the bodyguard in the gut.  
  
*SNIKT*  
  
He pulled his claws out and continued to walk towards the door. The second guard stepped forward. Logan delivered a powerful roundhouse kick sending the guard back. The only thing that stopped him from falling was the sudden backstop provided by the wall. Once he caught his bearings though, Logan's fist was pressed to his neck.  
  
*SNIKT*  
  
Wolverine withdrew and kicked open the large doors.  
  
"Mastermind!"  
  
No reply came. The back of Mastermind's large chair was facing him.  
  
*sniff*  
  
He kept his claws extended and slowly walked towards another door in the room - a closet of some sort. He opened it to find Mastermind hanging, blood dripping from his corpse.  
  
"Ya gotta admit, Logan..."  
  
Wolverine slowly turned and saw Sabretooth sitting in Mastermind's chair. He wasn't surprised in the least.  
  
"Th' old coot had it coming," Creed stated. "He was never good enough f'r the CIA. That's probably why they cut him loose."  
  
"I suppose you are, though," Logan said.  
  
"That's why I'm still with Weapon X."  
  
This comment surprised Logan a bit.  
  
"Mastermind was wrong then," he said. "When he said you went AWOL."  
  
"I was sent on a mission," Sabretooth stated. "In Iraq."  
  
"Sadam..." Logan muttered. "Why would th' Project want him dead?"  
  
"I don't question why," Sabretooth noted. "I just do."  
  
"You failed, though."  
  
"Who says I was there already?" Creed asked. "I got wind o' your activities, an' decided it'd suit my purposes better if I took you out, first."  
  
"So ya off me, an' that scores ya brownie points with Wraith."  
  
"Oh, there's more. Sadam's the first, but he's not th' last."  
  
"What're you talkin' about?" Logan asked.  
  
"You'll hafta kill me first," Sabretooth replied.  
  
"That can be arranged!" Logan exclaimed diving for the chair. Creed was up in an instant, slashing open his adversary's chest.   
  
"Ya just don't fuckin' get it, do ya?!" Sabretooth exclaimed, slamming his open palm against Logan's chin. He delivered another blow to the stomach, followed by a slam to the chest where the claw wound was. Logan fell to the ground, and Sabretooth delivered a swift kick to Logan while he was done.  
  
"You were always second-best," Sabretooth continued, spitting on the fallen Logan. "Can't believe they actually thought you were fit f'r the adamantium. Survival of th' fittest, Logan. An' lemme tell ya somethin, 'bub'..."  
  
Creed lifted his arm, claws drawn, prepared to deliver the finishing blow.  
  
"YER NOT FIT!!!"  
  
Before Sabretooth's claws could connect with Logan's head, something stopped them. Logan's hand reached out, gripping onto Sabretooth's wrist, preventing his arm from moving.  
  
"That..." Logan stated, using his free arm to slash Sabretooth. "Was my favorite shirt!!"  
  
Logan began to fight savagely, focusing on using his claws and rage. Every single tactic he'd ever learned in SHIELD was now gone. Now, he was the equivalent of a savage beast.  
  
Sabretooth's hand shot out, wrapping around Wolverine's throat. In one motion, Creed hurled him through the tinted windows which overlooked the club's dance floor.  
  
*KRASH*  
  
People scattered from the dance floor as Logan landed hard on it. If not for his adamantium skeleton, he would've broken his spine.  
  
Sabretooth leapt from the remains of the glass window, claws bared. Logan coiled his legs and shot them out as Sabretooth came closer.   
  
*THUMP*  
  
Creed rolled on the dance floor, the result of Wolverine's two-legged kick. He stood up straight and glared at his old foe.  
  
"Never should've left us, sonny-boy," he muttered. "Should've just rolled with th' punches."  
  
"I'm not like you, Creed," Logan stated. "I don't take shit from anybody."  
  
Sabretooth got into a fighting stance, ready to pounce on Wolverine once more.  
  
*BOOM*  
  
Something on the ground in front of Sabretooth exploded, sending him flying. When he looked up again, Wolverine was already on him, claws slashing furiously.  
  
Sabretooth grabbed Logan's wrists and threw him away.   
  
*BOOM*  
  
Another explosion in front of Creed.   
  
*FCHOW*  
  
*FCHOW*  
  
*FCHOW*  
  
Some sort of small, exploding objects struck Sabretooth from every direction, keeping him off-balance long enough for Wolverine to sneak up behind him.  
  
Using all his strength, Logan drove his claws into Sabretooth's back. They went deep - deep enough to pierce his chest as well.  
  
"Let's face facts, Creed..." Logan muttered. "Yer just second-best."  
  
*SNAKT*  
  
Sabretooth's body fell to the floor, his breathing erratic.  
  
"An' in this business, second-best don't cut it."  
  
He heard sirens approaching and darted through the crowd to the emergency exit.  
  


* * *

  
"What the hell is that...?" an entering cop asked, looking at Sabretooth's form.  
  
"You think it's one of those mutants?" his partner asked.  
  
"Stop right there!!"  
  
Both cops turned to see a couple of men in black suits approach them.  
  
"Special Agent John Wraith," one of them stated, pulling out a badge from his breast-pocket. "FBI. This man is a fugitive we've been tracking for some time, now."  
  
"What should we do, Rob...?" the cop asked his partner.  
  
"What you should do is stand down and let us go about our business," Wraith replied. "This situation is under our control - just get these damn people outta here!!"  
  
The two officers rushed to comply with the order. Once they were gone, Wraith bent down to Sabretooth's face.  
  
"You failed," he whispered. "But don't worry, there will be other opportunities to nab that fucking traitor. Welcome back to Weapon X, Mr. Creed."  
  


* * *

  
In the remains of Mastermind's office, a single man stood, with short, brown hair spiked in the front. He wore a black trench coat and a pair of dark sunglasses concealed his eyes.  
  
He slid the glasses down on his nose, revealing that his eyes were black with red pupils. In his hand, he held a single playing card. He tossed it in the air, and it exploded.  
  
Then, he was gone. 


End file.
